The Diary of A Crazy Kid
by CrazyPerson1
Summary: Ash is not thickheaded like in the anime. In fact, he is a genius! Unfortunately, he is also lazy, unmotivated and insensitive. And, through the power of cliched plot devices and FFN, watch his transformation through his very own journal from an average kid who's path will end with zero League victories, into a legend that would echo through space and time! (Or not.)
1. February 13 - February 28 (10 years old)

**February 13,** ( _because I steadfastly refuse to write 'Dear Diary'_ )

Today was my 10th birthday. And, you might wonder why I'm in such a foul mood on my birthday. After all, there were presents, cake, a nice party, cake, a huge family reunion, cake – well, you get the idea. So how can I be anything but giddily happy on this day? Well, the answer is, Mom. Apparently, one of her friends told her that writing in a diary helps 'develop one's inner world', or something equally as corny. And so, threatened with a possibility of not being allowed to watch the annual Indigo Battle Conference, I agreed to write this damned journal.

Yes, a journal; because I consider this a _journal_ , not a diary. Because dignified gentlemen and seafaring captains keep journals; diaries are for little girls with a crush on Gary Oak, grandson extraordinaire of the world-famous Professor Oak. Or, as I prefer calling him, ugly arrogant jerk.

Anyways, my Mom gave me a daily quota of two full pages to fill, so I shall proceed to fill out the pages with doodles. Well, maybe not doodles; my aunt Katharine would probably skin me alive for doodling after all the hours she spent trying to teach me to paint. Note that the operative word is 'try'. Well to be fair, I'm not that horrible at painting; it's just that I would much rather read a book. And the simple fact that my books are mostly covered with a thick layer of dust says a lot.

* * *

 **February 14,**

I hate this whole diary thing! Apparently, my Mom didn't agree with my sense of humour and banned me from the telly for a week and increased the quota to 3 pages. And so, I spent practically the entirety of the afternoon trying to get her to rescind her punishment. I tried everything, from plotting revenge inside my room to skulking - erm, using diplomacy. Because I most certainly did not beg, thank you not-so-kindly. Needless to say, that didn't work.

And what's even worse, is that it's raining heavily outside, so I can't even go outside! Anyways, after two hours of plotting and scheming, I waved the proverbial white flag and staggered to my room, making sure to cause extra noise in an attempt to annoy Mom. Not too much noise, of course, that would be asking for trouble, but still. And all of that is why I am sitting at my desk and writing in the stupid journal instead of doing something fun.

… I'm so bored! So bored that I'm actually writing in this journal to simply pass time! A few weeks ago, I might have gone to Leaf's house to hang out, but unfortunately, she moved out last week. A pity, really: after Gary with that annoying arrogant smirk that he seems to have been born with and his bookends – _ehem_ – friends who probably hang out with him for no other reason than that he's considered the 'coolest' bloke in town, and girls who swoon and sigh and then promptly deny it (and I most certainly haven't paraphrased "I Won't Say I'm in Love", thank you very much), Leaf was a breath of fresh air. I don't know what like more about her: the fact that she isn't afraid to get her hands dirty, unlike the other girls, or that the first time that Gary tried to hit on her, she replied with a condescending laugh and then proceeded to tear into him verbally. Or that she repeated the same action in the following twenty time Gary tried to flirt with her. On the twenty first she was a bit tad too upset over the recent death of her old-time family pet, friend and partner in crime, a Purrloin named Rita. So she may or may not have broken Gary's nose for daring to suggest that she 'let him help getting over that annoying fur-ball and go out with him'. Or maybe it was because of his attempt to buy her out with 'cooler and stronger Pokemon'.

But, well, she moved out of town last week, so I can't exactly go over and visit anymore. So, what to do, what to do… I'm not desperate enough to paint, and I'm definitely not desperate enough to read. But I'm getting there, slowly but surely. And the regular, quiet yet very clearly discernible sound of ticking is driving me crazy! And Mom banned me from watching the TV. Of course, I could try to risk it and turn it on anyways. But I'm pretty sure that she would hear it from the other end of the house over Laelynn's crying. And as a two-month old baby, she certainly cries a lot. And, adorable (just don't tell her that, 'kay) adopted sister or not, she's a two-month old baby. And two-month old babies are annoying. It's a rule. Just like rule #34 of the Internet, except in real life. So, yeah…

* * *

 **February 15,**

I swear, the world is out to get me or something. I mean, getting grounded from the Telly is bad enough, but now I also find that it's flooding. And I don't know why. The weather forecast predicted several days with a clear sky. Not to mention that the monsoon season is several months away. And despite sitting with my sketchpad for about half an hour, I still haven't decided what to draw. Which might explain why the sketchpad is on the floor.

So, with nothing left to do, a pick up a lamp and brush. Cleaning off the dust and cobweb off the bookshelf with the care of an archaeologist examining an ancient artefact, Dr Ketchum holds up a thick physics book. And, flicking a tiny spider off the priceless artefact, the Doctor settled down the tome onto the table with a dramatic _thump_ , and gingerly flipped open the page with abated breath…

Whatever, I'm bored again. The physics book was surprisingly interesting, but it's just not my cup of tea. I mean, I've never had problem with memorising anything once I understood it from inside out. Problem is, the books just simply don't explain things inside out, and the teachers are oftentimes less than helpful. I don't exactly blame them, I mean, some of my classmates still haven't memorised the multiplication table, so they have to cater to the needs of the majority. Not that I'm not annoyed.

Well, the rain doesn't seem like it'll stop anytime soon, and it'd already managed flood up by about two more inches. And yes, I did check; I plunged little twigs about 5 inches apart, just like Christopher from that 'Winnie the Pooh' book that my Mom used to read me when I was a wee little midget. So, I suppose I might as well read that biology book that Daisy sent me several years ago before she flew to Kalos to study in that fancy University.

…I swear, if I don't find some other activity aside from reading, I'll go crazy! Mom is busy with Laelynn, like usual, inspiration is adamant on escaping my grasp, and I'm banned from watching TV.

The only thing that could be worse is if a Gyarados decides to take a springtime vacation in Pallet while it's flooding. Though, I suppose, it won't be half as bad if it decides to snack on Gary.

* * *

 **February 16,**

…I hate my life. In the last two days, out of sheer boredom, I have read around four books. Note them, four thick science books! Oh, how have the mighty fallen! My Mom, of course, is positively glowing with happiness that I've apparently 'decided to take my future seriously and study'. As if! I swear, once it stops flooding, I'll refuse to touch books for a month. But, for now, since I still don't have anything to draw, I guess books are going to be my only companions. I sigh with despair; from Leaf down to books… my circle of contacts seems to be shrinking before my very eyes.

Well, on the bright side, School is cancelled because of the flood. Though with how much I'm reading, it probably doesn't make a difference. Another funny thing is that a Gyarados did apparently swim up to town. Unfortunately, it was driven away by Professor Oak's old Dragonite before it could eat Gary, but what are you going to do…

* * *

 _Skip forward to several days…_

* * *

 **February 23,**

Today the flood has finally retreated away! Oh, I'm so happy I could almost kiss Gary. Key word being almost; I wouldn't kiss him if my life depended on it. Boredom has been a cruel, cruel mistress, let me tell you. Due to sheer boredom, I have read about twelve various books and completed about three quarters of all exercises in my Math's textbook. Oh woe, oh angst!

Anyways, nothing really changed. Gary is still a prick, Laelynn is still annoying, and Mom has found another excuse to ban me from TV. I love her to death, but sometimes I swear that she'll be the death of me. A slow, agonisingly boring death filled with mathematic equations and character analyses. Well, At least I got a letter from Leaf. I miss her, I really do. I mean, without her, there's no one who can beat Gary and get away with it! Anyways, she's settled down in Viridian. She made a friend named Amanda who she's nicknamed 'Yellow' of all things. Then again, she started calling Gary 'Blue' ever since she found out that the blue colour is synonymous to homosexuality in some Eastern-European language. And, while I think it's fitting, I refuse to use it, because our long-standing rivalry and hatred would receive a whole new meaning that I refuse to accept.

Anyways, school will start again next week. Until then, I think I'll draw Gary-dos, by which I mean various pictures of Gary on a date with a Gyarados. Oh, it'll be absolutely glorious!

…

I hate my life. The original excitement of drawing Gary being eaten by the massive Water-Flying type has ebbed away in approximately two hours. And I've run out of books which are even remotely interesting. Why would I say that? Because the books I have left are all either Greek/Kalosian/Sinnoh mythology, or along the lines of 'Mill on the Floss' and "The Picture of Dorian Gray". And school will only resume next week. And Mom _absolutely_ refuses to let me go outside until they fix the roads. And knowing the bloody bureaucrats, it won't happen for a _long_ while. Heh. Well, at least I have something to read aside from War and Peace. _That's_ at least something.

* * *

 **February 28,**

Yippe yeay. I hate my life. For the last five or so days I've had nearly nothing to do but read. And I _liked_ that! Dear Arceus, I actually _liked_ that! I liked analysing the actions of various characters and their seemingly illogical actions, like why Sibyl Vane decides to quit acting, or why Dorian Gray is such a moron, or why Mrs Reed suddenly decided to repent before death (really, stupid clichés, pah), or how Stephen Guest's and Maggie Tulliver's romance, or how… I'm ranting now, aren't I?

And what's more, is that I have been reduced to reading literary classics! And not the fun stuff, like Hobbits or the LOTR series, no; some why, he found that he liked multi-layered plotlines that for whatever mystical reason made you reflect upon the book and think about what-ifs. Oh, how have the mighty fallen!

Anyways, on a brighter note, I only have a couple of days left until school. I'd never thought that I would ever look forward to going to school, but there you have it. Boredom, ladies and gentlemen, is a cruel, cruel mistress. I would have called her another word, but I think Mom would kill me for it. Quite possibly after a long laugh about it, but have little doubt that she would kill me. Just like Medea – you see what boredom has done to me?! I had become educated, cultured! Well, I guess I'd better calm down before I spit more. Anyways, I weep for the life I had. I was perfectly happy with my mediocre existence that revolved around preparing for a Pokémon journey when I turned 11, because that is when we're allowed to go to Hogwarts- err, I mean, go on a journey. Yes sir, we, proud eleven years old snot-nosed kids will set out in a tidal wave of irresponsibility, immaturity and incompetency.

…What the hell am I even writing? Why the hell have my thoughts on next year's journey changed so radically?! Why, it's the books, I tell you, the ruddy books – you see what I mean? I don't even know what the word ruddy means, and after a two-week long reading session I'm already picking up random and completely unnecessary phrases! I tell you, people, books were created to brainwash people into believing stupid stuff. It's all a conspiracy, I tell you, a conspiracy against humanity and the very concept of fun itself! So let us arm ourselves, brothers and sisters, with matchsticks, TV remotes and Gameboys and march on a crusade against those leather/carton-bounded abominations!

… What am I even writing? _Sigh_ … I give up.

* * *

... **Yes, I was bored. Well, still am as a matter of fact. Yes, I know that I haven't updated in heck knows how long. But, you know, inspiration is a... let's just call it something very bad, and leave it at that. Anyways, writing in this format should be easy, so I think (but no guarantees here) that the updates should be more stable.**

 **As for the other stories... The Misadventures started as a crack fic. I realized that I'm not good at crack-fics. So if anyone wnats to adopt it, by all means. Just PM me. Though if no one volunteers, I will try to finish it on my own. As for the 'White Rose', I am reeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaally close to renaming it. I had an idea in mind. As I wrote, that idea got scraped. And so, yeah... On the bright side, I've been writing chapter 3 (about 3,5K words right now).**

 **So, as usual, please, please, PLEASE review because I know that my writing sucks, I just don't know what specifically. Oh, And if you have an idea of how to rename The White Rose (because I'm dry on ideas), please leave a PM. I'd ask for a follow, but that would just be conceited, so yeah... Until whatever day I finish chapter 3 for TWR.**


	2. March 1 - June 12

**March 1,**

You know those times when you thought about some things that, as it turns out, you don't hate as much as you remembered? And then you tried to reengage in that activity, and then you remembered exactly why you hated it in the first place? Like how Leaf used to occasionally say that surely Gary isn't that bad, and then he would ruin the moment by trying to hit on her yet again? Well yeah, same thing happened to me, except I didn't get to beat up Gary. For I've suddenly remembered why I _despised_ school so much. And it's not because of its woefully lacking education, or the fact that our teachers spend more time trying to enforce their pointless, arbitrary rules than actually teaching. I mean, honestly, why is it that you have to write with your right hand if you're left-handed, or that you must always sit in a stiff, rigid and, frankly, ridiculous pose that leaves you extra vulnerable to being constantly poked at by Gary's little fanboys. No, the reason that I loathe school with an undying passion is really the same reason as every other student. It's the sheer amount of time that it wastes. Who cares about the story of 'The Torkoal and the Bunnelby', or the 'Politoed and the Princess', or about 'The Sleeping Gardevoir' that, surprise, surprise, gets rescued by 'Prince Gallade the Charming'? Or why we use similar triangles in square triangles when sines and cosines are quicker, or why does Gary tries so much to be an even bigger jerk, when he's already the biggest jerk in town… I mean, what's the point of spending five hours a day on that, especially when half of the kids are going to leave as soon as they get their license? They could have taught us survival tricks, or battle tactics, or the anatomy of various Pokemon… But I suppose that's not the worst thing. No, because you see, I've managed to find something more annoying than school, Gary _and_ Laelynn's constant crying _combined_. It is my nemesis, a shadow that constantly stalks, it is _boredom_! And you know how bad it is when even watching Gary trip on a tree root is no longer amusing.

 _Sigh…_ Anyways, on a totally different note, Mom got herself a Mr Mime. Or perhaps I should call it _Mrs_ Mime, seeing as how Mom's Pokedex identified the Fairy-Psychic-type as a female. You can never know with ole' Dexter, whether it's working correctly, malfunctioning, or if it had simply decided to develop a sentience of its own. Because I swear, that its various quips and sarcastic insults remind me a bit too much of its (or his) namesake, my many, many times removed 16 years old cousin Dexter. Unless… Unless Dexter himself is a pre-programmed android. Well, that would certainly explain why he never eats. Or uses the lavatory. Or blinks. At least I don't think he does. But what _is_ irrefutable, then it is that he doesn't sleep. I swear that every time he sleeps over, which usually happens when we host a family reunion, which we almost always do (due to the fact that Mom is without a doubt, the best cook in the family - not that Aunt Sarah would agree), he always makes weird groaning sounds at night. And don't even get me started on that strange, rhythmic watery sound. Urgh! Whatever, at least Mom is there to shut him up most of the time. Except last year, for whatever reason, she sent me to the Leaf's house for the night to let to 'deal with a certain young man'. Not that I minded, of course, Leaf is cool, but I just didn't see the point in that. _Sigh…_ I hate family reunions. They're always _so_ messy and loud… Well, at least that year we only had to host one family reunion instead the usual two. Well, that was because Mom suddenly fell ill and then flew over to Hoenn's Lavaridge Town to heal. Though I've never understood why she came back with a baby Laelynn, but whatever.

Anyways, back to Mrs –err, I mean Mr Mime, the strange Fairy-Psychic type decided to take over most household chores aside from cooking. Because no one can beat Mom at cooking. And, while I honestly don't mind having someone tidy stuff up for me, the crazy Pokemon decided to reorganize stuff for me. So now, I have my books on the bookshelves instead of the desk, the clothes in the wardrobe instead of the floor and the little flower that aunt Sarah had decided to send me for whatever reason is now blooming instead of wilting… And what's even worse, the crazy mime has thrown away my entire bottle cap collection! My bottle cap collection that I had meticulously built up from that single St Anne's Mineral Water bottle cap. And now, it's all gone, all because of a stupid Mr(s?) Mime! And even worse, it's not one bit apologetic about it. It just gives me that creepy face, almost as if saying 'bottle caps are trash'. And then it took my entire collection using 'Psychic' and then ruthlessly dumped it into the trash can, right in front of my very eyes, completely ignoring my pleading! Oh woe is me!

(Here the diary is stained by a couple of tears.)

In any case, Leaf decided to send me another letter. Turns out, her family has decided to move yet again. For whatever reason, they decided to move to Alola of all places! And there, the minimum age at which one can receive a Trainer License is 13 years! I don't know whether to find that funny, or tragic, seeing as how she herself told me to 'watch out', because she was going to 'whoop my ass in battle when we get our Pokemon'. Yeah…

* * *

 **March 2,**

I think – wait, I _know_ that my Mom is a sadist. Because yesterday when she was, yet again, glancing through my journal entry, she started laughing midway in. I swear, there's nothing funny about either boredom, or having your precious bottle-cap collection decimated before your very eyes. And then, for whatever reason, she figuratively held me at gunpoint with that stern look of hers for about a minute before ruffling my hair and saying that I was incredibly talented at twisting facts and that I should really look into becoming a journalist. I honestly have no idea where that came from.

Anyways, moving on… What can I say, school is still boring, Gary's still annoying, and Laelynn still spends half of the time she's awake crying. Same old stuff, same old stuff. I am utterly ashamed to say that, due to sheer boredom, I have taken to visiting the library to check out science books. I mean, my aim is to become the best there ever was! I wish to become a Master, a Champion, not a nerd! Oh, how the mighty are overthrown, indeed. [1]

So, in a futile attempt to purge myself of my woes from wit, I turned on the TV to find out… that due to the flood, all Kanto tournaments will be cancelled up until May. Until May! Off woe, oh angst! Now the only things needed to complete the picture of misery are Gary with that arrogant smirk of his and that creepy Mr(s?) Mime. Such is life, people, such is life…

On a completely unrelated side note, some of our neighbours have supposedly lost a couple of Tauros and Ponyta. And, surprise, surprise, one Gary's flunkies accused me of stealing Ponyta and Tauros. Now, such baseless accusations are no strangers among children, but what I did find strange, is that the police actually went ahead and interrogated me. Naturally, they found me innocent and let me go with an apology from the constables, but what surprises me is that they actually listened to a nose-tweaking schoolyard boy! Well, perhaps I shouldn't really be surprised about the overzealousness of the Kanto Police force, nor that said overzealousness tends to go hand-in-hand with incompetency and, in some cases, corruptness (yes, apparently corruptness is a word). At least that's what Mom said when she shouted at my poor escort. Of course, her rant also involved a lot more glaring along with threats of castration (whatever that means), dismemberment and eternal suffering. I would have laughed at the utterly terrified look on the policemen who escorted me back who, coincidentally, happened to be the same ones who took me for questioning. Except I sort of sympathised with them; an angry Mom equals to hell and high water for anyone who her eyes lay on. Except Laelynn. Wheever she sees Laelynn, she always starts cooing.

Anyways, moving on…

* * *

 **March 4,**

The days have passed on quite uneventfully, and thank Arceus for that. Anyways, remember that police investigation? Turns out it was some guy called Ted Belly. Huh, never would have pegged him for that type; he was always nice, if somewhat flamboyant. Well, that's what Mom said; I couldn't care less. Then again, he has been living in poverty for a fairly long while, and I think that trying to support his mother, two younger siblings _and_ paying for his adopted daughter's university tuition must not have been very good for his nerves. Especially since no one is willing to employ him after that stunt he had pulled in his youth some twenty years ago that landed him in prison.

The rumours of his 'capture' have varied quite wildly. Gary said that the police found the man barricaded in his home and that they tried to unsuccessfully break in. So he, _in his very humble words_ , fearlessly ran around the building and, picking the lock in the backdoor, crept in and knocked Ted out cold with a 'mighty blow'. Like usual, the remaining kids could be split into three groups. The first one comprised of his little fan-club that seemed to think that worshipping Gary is the civic and moral duty of every citizen. It consisted of about a third of all kids who naturally decided that Gary couldn't _possibly_ lie, the paragon of perfection he is in their eyes. The second group included _almost_ everyone else. They consisted of people who either doubted what His Arrogance said, or disbelieved him outright, but didn't vocalise their disagreement, opting to instead, go with the flow. Now, you might ask me why ' _almost_ everyone else' and what was the third group. Well, that's because everyone who is left goes into group three, the Sensible group that sees past the screen of Tauros faeces that Gary spouts and isn't afraid to call him out on it. I am the group's leader. And I'm also its only member. Sigh…

But I digress. Anyways, a second version that floated out there (that I totally didn't start spreading as soon as I heard it, no-sirre) was that Ted barricaded himself in his house and threatened to shoot anyone who approaches, but when the police broke down the door, he fired a single shot, making the police scatter and flee. Except for a handful of policemen, all of whom were apparently named Bob for some reason who engaged old Ted n a firefight. Ted was a really good shot, and soon enough, his shots have scared away most of the Bobbies, except one. But as fate had it, both of them ran out of bullets. So Bob, being the valiant Bobby that he was, cautiously walked in to apprehend Ted who... has apparently broke down and started sobbing before spilling out his entire life story to Bob. Bob didn't know what to do, so he just said there, awkwardly listening. A few minutes later, Gary tripped quietly into the room (and don't even ask me how it was possible), at which point the rest of the oh _so_ valiant police force entered and one of them, hands shaking, shot Ted with a pistol. Naturally seeing as how it _is_ the Kanto Police Force after all, the shot missed Ted completely and almost hit Gary who began panicking like a chicken and screamed like a little girl. Ted, who wasn't expecting a girlish scream to pierce the air, got a heart attack from the sort-of-accidental jump-scare, after which the police rushed him to the... police station. What? Did you honestly think that they would rush him to a hospital? This is the Kanto Police force! They probably didn't even realize that Ted had a heart attack until way later.

On a side note, I'm seriously starting to question what they say on "Trainers and their Techniques" which, coincidentally, happened to be my favourite TV programme. Specifically Blaine's Heat Lens technique. I mean, heating up the air around the Pokemon would just turn it into plasma, which, purely by coincidence, I tell you, happens to be a superconductor. And I genuinely fail to see how that would stop any electric move. Or Giovanni's infamous Stone Tree technique, which consists of a single massive rock bursting from the ground, followed with hundreds of tiny ones growing out of it. And sometimes, those little rocks shoot out like Pin-Missiles! How they shoot out, I have no idea. The official explanation is that he combines Stone Edge with Earth Power (another technique that he had created), meaning that the big, 'root' rock consists of highly pressurised gas inside, surrounded by a thick layer of stone. Which begs a different question: then why don't we see the gas come out when the 'branch' rocks shoot out, when the Earth Power technique leaves the gas clearly visible?

Though I have always thought it weird that successful trainers would divulge their secrets just like that. I mean, it would be logical for them to keep the secrets to themselves? Or, at the least, not tell the whole secret? Because, there's no doubt that the 'Heat Lens' or the 'Stone Tree' work; we see it on screen all the time, during tournaments and even Gym Battles! Yes, all Gym Battles are recorded, and at the end of each week, a special committee gathers to sift through the records and see which one will be aired on TV.

And, since my dream is to become the very best, I will definitely need to be able to defeat them. Who are 'them'? 'Them' means Blaine, and Giovanni, and all the other Gym Leaders, and the Elite 4, and the Champion. And if I can't even figure out the secret behind their devastating techniques that their Pokemon can dish out like candy, then what chance do I have? And, since I'm bored as hell, and the matches won't be aired until late spring, then I suppose I'll settle down and try to look over some of those techniques. All of which can be explained by Science! I suppose that's why old Professor Oak chose the path of the damned! The allure of knowledge and cookies are too much for any mortal. And so, the old man (who was a Champion back in his days) has fallen to the Dark side… The side of Science!

No, I must not follow his path. Yes, for he came over to the Dark side with good intentions. But in his hubris, he has thought that he would be able to tame the thorns and brambles of the Dark side. And he became… the Ultimate Nerd. Just kidding, just kidding. Mom, if you are reading this, please don't tell the Professor. I don't want his Arcanine to lick me to death. But anyways, I think I'm still going to try to dissect some of the more useful techniques and see if I can create my own ones. I mean, what could possibly go wrong? ...

* * *

 **June 12,**

… I just had to jinx myself, didn't I? Yes, I am referring to 'what could possibly go wrong' from all the way back on March 4. I've started The Project (yes, in capital) with surprising success. I've worked out a plan. No, The Plan.

The Plan consists of several Points. The First, is to figure out what the hell 'moves' are. I mean, are they really just less complicated techniques that everyone knows about, and why the hell wild Pokemon seem to generally use the same moves. Is it instinct, or do the wild Pokemon just copy what the trained ones do? Secondly, I need to figure out exactly which moves you can combine, and which ones you can't. Because, for instance, I've never seen anyone combine Shock Wave and, say, Rock Blast. Which actually raises another matter: what are types, anyways? I mean, is the classification even correct? Are type disadvantages just inherent weaknesses that each Pokemon has biologically, like how every bird is weak to Ice type moves because their relatively small bodies do not have a strong metabolic system and thermo-regulatory system are usually easily overwhelmed? Because then it doesn't make sense. Going by that logic, Pokemon like Heliolisk, or Alomomola, or just about all ancient Fossil Pokemon should also be weak to Ice, since they live in warm, and in most cases, tropical climates! And yet, Alomomola is clearly not weak to ice, and some even resist Ice type Moves!

I mean, there have been plenty of theories, ranging from how Pokemon are a product of extra-terrestrial genetic manipulation (gah, I can't believe I've said that, yuck) and, as such, those type weaknesses are a design choice to keep balance or something along those lines, to the good (or not so good) old Creationist theory. Heck, I've even heard a documentary that insists that each Pokemon, as well as their moves, have a certain mystical Aura around them. There are apparently 18 different types, and that some Auras are apparently stronger than others, and their 'collision' reflects on the Pokemon physically. … … … I can't believe that I've just spent the last ten minutes of my life writing that hogwash! Even _I_ don't believe that rubbish, hell, even Gary doesn't believe it! And although typically, the option that Gary does not choose is the better one, I think that I might just have to agree with him on this one. That being said, I think I'm going to look out of the window to see if gravity has suddenly decided to stop working, on account of Gary's opinion actually being logical. Err… Gravity doesn't _seem_ to have stopped working, however I _do_ see (and hear, due to how noisily they speak) a tall, muscular, well-tanned guy wearing a toga, a bronze helmet straight from the times when the Greeks and their Hyper Beam-spamming Tauros were laying siege to Troy. And for whatever reason, he's discussing _modus ponens_ , whatever it is, with a freaking Wartortle. So there you have it folks, the Universe is still freaking out over Gary being correct at something.

Back to the Project, I had a plan, a good one at that. You'd think that it would work. Turns out, nope. I got stuck on point one, because I have no way to either prove, or disprove either hypothesis. Brrr, I can't believe I said that. Anyways, I decided to just throw away the Plan and just dissect some moves directly. And to do that, I needed a list. So for about two weeks, I've obsessively pored over various books, re-watched hundreds of various matches, went to the Fan-Club house… Oh, I got the list, alright. It's just that I still have nightmares about the Fan-Club house. Anyways, with the list done, I started sorting it from the (seemingly) least complicate, to most complicated. I gave up halfway through, because I realised that I had no way of telling. And then, I started sorting them by 'levels'. You see, commentators and Battle Analysts often divide certain techniques by how early (in terms of badges, that is) can those moves be used on without doing permanent injury on your opponent. In other words, how strong must a Pokemon be to withstand a certain technique? So I did just that.

And before I even knew it, it's the twelfth of June, and I still haven't started actually dissecting moves! I'm going to leave in a year, and I still haven't made any progress! And what's even worse, I've managed to miss the start of the Indigo Battle Conference! Oh, and I've finally figured out a way to solve the problem with our resident mime. Turns out, all I had to do was bribe it (him? her?) with peanut butter. The freaking mime _adores_ peanut butter. In fact, it enjoys it so much, that it has even gone ahead and kissed baby Laelynn! And some why, the baby decided to giggle and clap her hands together, instead of getting traumatized for life by that creepy white face and pink cheeks and awful red nose. Then again, I'm no expert on babies, so I think I'll just skip back to the Battle Conference.

I've managed to miss half of the preliminary rounds. And I am _not_ happy with that. Mom, meanwhile, just giggles and giggles at my woes. Well, I'm hoping she is, because otherwise, I fear for her mental health.

I mean, she's giggling all the time, and she's taken to wearing some weird but pleasant perfume. She's also started blanking out in the middle of the day, not to mention that she's started occasionally (and somewhat worriedly) asking me if her outfit looks good. Oh, and she's started digging out her old dresses and high heels. I, of course have no idea as to the cause of her strange behaviour. And the biology books in the library have hardly been useful. And, speaking from experience, the only other time I have ever seen this phenomena is when Daisy started fancying that Kalosian trainer who stopped by for a short while. But surely Mom didn't fall in love with some Kalosian guy? I mean, there's no one in town from Kalos, right? Right?

…

Or is it? A few weeks ago, a new guy has moved into town. Mom said he's a pretty friendly guy with 'the most wonderful blue eyes', but she didn't say where he came from. He's apparently on old Veteran Trainer and he has decided to retire. He _does_ have a Clawitzer, a Meowstick and a Pyroar, all of whom are from from Kalos. I think it'd do me well to keep an eye on that guy, just in case he tries to hurt Mom.

* * *

 **AN: Que Beethoven's 5th symphony. Yep, Ash is going all out protective mode. Oh, and no, Leaf will not be the protagonist from Sun and Moon, amusing twist as it might be.**

 **Anyways, ta-da! For once, I haven't procrastinated and finished a chapter right when I actually wanted! Anyways, please, please, PLEASE review. I mean, in all of the two days in which it was more or less actively viewed, I have gotten only one review. _One_! (Oh thanks, Venom Wolf for said review!) I mean, come on guys, just take a minute to hack out a review to tell me where I screwed up, or what I couldn't have done better! I'm not asking for much now, am I? **

**Oh, and most importantly. Should I launch out diary entries in batches like I have, or should I put each entry in a separate chapter? The latter will allow for faster updates, but it also has its own disadvantages. So, either PM, or leave a review on it. Until next time, whenever it might be!**


	3. June 21 - August 2

**June 21,**

So, for the last two week I have spent most of my time doing… _research_ on that Kalosian guy, so to speak. I must admit, I did enjoy this whole Cloak-and-Dagger-James-Bond-and-His-Sableye business. But anyways, I have been able to gather a… substantial amount of information on him. I know that he likes eating French Fries and that on every Wednesday, though he doesn't seem too sad to me. But anyways, during every single one of those times he ordered exactly the same thing – strong black coffee and croissants. I mean, come on, you don't get more Kalosian than _French_ Fries and black coffee and croissants. Well, I'm not quite sure about black coffee, but I don't think Kalosians are fans of white coffee, so, yeah…

Oh, and I have also found out that he doesn't smoke. He seems to enjoy reading magazines outside in the park. He likes wearing dark clothes but I don't think you can peg him as an emo. He has a young daughter named Amélie. I think she's aged around 9 or so. Even thinking about her makes me shudder. Ever since I told off a group of Gary's fangirls who were picking on the girl for having a strange accent, she seems to have decided to start following me like a lost puppy. And, just like with lost puppies, I can't send her away, because whenever I try to do that, she looks at me with those round innocent eyes. But I digress. Anyways, the man also seems to love his daughter quite a bit. I think she's his dead brother's daughter or something. As for how I found that out, well, I can simply say one thing: never underestimate the power of gossip. Let's see, is there anything else to add? Well, I suppose I can say that he plays chess. Oh, and I saw him dispose of a magazine with a logo containing a blackened contour of Babs the Bunneary. But anyways, main point is that even though I still don't know exactly where he's from, all evidence points towards him being a Kalosian.

I'm afraid that my previous diagnosis was correct. Mom is smitten with a Kalosian. And she isn't the only one from the looks of it. The younger women flock around him like honeys around bee, and the also like to sigh dreamily when our resident Casanova smiles at them or compliments them. But the other women don't really concern me. My mom on the other hand…

I worry about her. Because, I mean, he fits the bill of a dark and mysterious guy who tends to charm the main heroine in that book that Mom doesn't want me to read. I mean, there's nothing bad about that book, aside from the clichéd and illogical plotline that seems to make people a lot dumber than anyone would be in real life. Yes, dumber than Gary and his groupie. But anyways, back to the man, I honestly don't think he'll go ahead and go all Edward Rochester on Mum or anything. And, even if the best case scenario does somehow miraculously happen, he might go all Edward _Cullen_ on her instead, and that would just be a horrible tragedy. Because even Thomas the Tank Engine has a better love story than Twilight.

So, as the result, I'm going to try to hatch a fool-proof plan to make sure that he doesn't get the chance to break Mom's heart. Because in every single romance story, everything ends either like Romeo and Juliet, or with a Disney-Trademarked and-they-lived-happily-ever-after, meaning that if I can get them to declare undying love for each other under moonlight or beside candlelight, than everything should be just fine. But question is, how do I do that?

* * *

 **June 22,**

Alright, so today is the day I shall start executing phase 1 of Plan MOTPSC (Make OTP Ship Canon). And, like in all of those romantic comedies, if I am going to be the wingman no one knows about / the meddlesome kid, then I'm going to need a sidekick. And, since Laelynn is too small, and even then, I doubt I would be able to bear her company, than I shall go with the clichéd 'son of future wife and daughter of future husband'. So, that means that I need to get Amélie on my side. Seeing how she's following me around like a lost puppy, then that shouldn't be too much of a problem.

…

Okay, so maybe not. I wanted to ask her for help, but then it dawned on me. I mean, she's a giggly 9 years old girl. If I tell her, then she'll probably blab about it to her father anyways. So it seems that I'll have to go Rambo style. Though she could be a rather convenient excuse to be near my target, making my job a heck of a lot easier.

Meaning that I'll have to edit my plan. Because honestly, Mom's been getting even more giggly and dreamy, and I'm afraid that if he doesn't get the hint, than there'll be no Mr and Mrs …

I just realized something. I don't know the man's name. _Sigh_ … Be back in a few hours…

…

Alright, so apparently the man's name is Jacob Night. I can _just_ imagine him saying "My name is Jacob. Jacob Night, at your service". Man, I couldn't have made a more fitting name if I did it myself!

But anyways, I think I'm going to have to put off my scheming until tomorrow. Mom had an appointment with the town's resident therapist, so I have to watch Laelynn. Who's probably not going to do anything but clap her hands and gurgle and play with my fingers until she gets bored and falls asleep, so I don't see why I have to waste time watching her. But somehow, I have this sneaking suspicion that Mom will know if I didn't do what she asked, so I'm going to have to waste time there anyways.

But, back to the problem, Mom's visiting a therapist. It appears that she's either confused about her feelings, or she is in a state of denial and, as such, is looking for professional counselling. Yes, just like that main heroine from that weird book that Mom likes for some strange reason. I mean, the plot is ridiculous, and the author relies far, far too heavily on symbolic foreshadowing and her (the author's) allegories and metaphors that are downright loony. Yet for whatever reason, Mom loves that book. And when she saw me reading it, her face flushed all red and she snatched it away before shakily asking me if I had gotten to Chapter 7 yet. Some why, she breathed out in relief when I said no and made me promise to never, ever read that book again, at least not until I'm 'older', for whatever reason. So, anyways, Mom is behaving just like the heroines from her favourite books, and so she, as a fairly smart person, realizes it and identifies it as something worth worrying over. And, in order to calm her nerves, she's going to the therapist. In fact, she's so worried that the therapist came over with some chamomile flowers to escort her. And since chamomile tea is said to have a calming effect, then surely the actual flowers will have a stronger effect! See how easy that was? And they say that algorithms are hard, pah!

Anyways, since Mom seems to be in the 'Denial' stage, then it invariably means that the Kalosian man- err, I meant Jacob, is also in a predicament of his own. What that predicament is? Well, from my limited understanding, it depends on the level of cheesiness that the novel has. If it's really, _really_ cliché, than he will be starting to notice Mom and think about nothing but her, because they are pre-destined soul-bound lovers or something along those lines – basically, they have found 'The One'. If it's the slightly less clichéd novel, then he will be mulling over the similarities between her and some other, previous lover, losing whom has left an indelible mark on him, and, if said ex-lover is dead, than he realizes that 'she would have wanted him to be happy, not cling on to her memory years after her tragic, tragic death'. Alternatively, if the ex-lover dumped him for someone else (and it's the villain to boot), then he realizes that she isn't worth it, and starts gravitating towards Mom. Or, if the writer really adores Jane Eyre, than they might even hear a voice that pulls them towards each other. And, if Arceus forbid, it's one of those poorly written fanfics, then Mom will either end up as part of a harem that he's building if it's written by a bloke, or if it's a teenage girl that wrote it, then it'll likely reduce Mom and Jacob to two stumbling teens with lots of needless drama in between.

But, since I have no way of telling exactly which kind of novel this is, then I'll have to go with the "use a gun, and if it doesn't work, use more guns" philosophy. So I guess I'd best get out the fake moustache and phoney nose and the Homburg hat. Oh, and let's not forget a newspaper so I can disguise my blatant observation with it. Yeah, I definitely can't forget the newspaper.

* * *

 **June 23,**

Operation MOTPSC Mark 2 is officially undergo. I have found a rather inconspicuous looking cap and a pair of sunglasses. So, I followed the target to his usual dining place with a newspaper. Target JN ordered a cup of strong black coffee and a plate of lovely freshly baked croissants. He is eating absentmindedly, instead opting to bestow his attention upon a pendant that he never seems to take off. The pendant is, in all likelihood, either a lucky charm to him, or a simple item that he holds a strong emotional attachment to. While I cannot immediately discard that the pendant is indeed, nothing more than a lucky charm, option two clearly fits the picture I am painting more, so I'm going to take a page out of some greasy elbowed politician and conveniently ignore the first option. And since the pendant being a memento to him as his career as a trainer doesn't really fit this either, so I'll immediately throw it out of the window. So yes, the pendant must be connected to his diseased wife. Yes, and he must be looking at it while having an inner conflict about how he's betraying her memory if he is noticing Mom. Yes, it must be it! I mean, surely it can't simply be connected to his adopted daughter instead, now, can it?

So anyways, once target JN has finished his meal, he paid his bill while gracing the waitress with a charming smile. But I think he didn't pour his soul into it, almost as if he is distracted. Yes, it must be it, he must be too conflicted about his feelings about Mom, instead of taxes, or some weird mortgage he might have, or maybe even a pesky bug that's flying around. OTP for the win!

So now, target went to the park. He sat on the very same bench that Mom likes to sit on – yes, surely it's a sign from Arceus that they're meant to be! He pulled out a small, thick book. It's titled "A Poet in New York". Yes, yes, it all makes sense! He is conflicted about his feelings, and so seeks an escape into the world of poems. Yes, that must be it! So anyways, about half an hour later, he got up, brushed the non-existent dust from his jacket and jaunted off home. As opposed to usual, he did not whistle. That can be explained off by the fact that he is too busy thinking about Mom to whistle. Ok, so now all I have to do is to manage to inconspicuously sneak off after him. Right, so I'll be back in a few seconds. Or minutes. Or hours. Eh, whatever…

…

Stupid Gary! I was doing a mighty fine job of following target JN when Gary popped up with his gang. Uh, I hate them! Anyways, Gary saw me write something and he immediately sauntered up and accused me of writing a diary like an insecure little girl. _Me_ , an _insecure little girl?!_ An outrage! I am Ash Ketchum from Pallet town, and I'm going to be a Pokemon Master! I am not an insecure little girl. But at least today Gary backed off when I told him that he was speaking from experience. Normally, he would have stuck around for at least another five or so minutes, strutting around like a Pidgeot, but today he just decided to sneer and saunter off with his 'smell ya later'. I have no idea why...

Anyways, thanks to a certain self-important idiot and his goons, I'm afraid that project MOTPSC M2 will have to be terminated, since my identity was compromised. Target JN will surely know what's going on. But wait, what if I change my outfit every time? Then surely he won't realize exactly _who_ I am? I mean, if I can make things sufficiently over-the-top winded and convoluted, then surely I will be able to confuse target JN. After all, if I can make him think that it was someone else masquerading as me masquerading as someone else, then all will be fine.

* * *

 **June 28,**

Mom's condition is getting worse. So much so, that the therapist is actually coming straight into Mom's bedroom to examine her. I think he's putting her on a regime of physical exercise to take her mind off JN. How do I know that? Well, I do hear a lot of grunts and occasional moans from all the way inside my bedroom. Yes, I believe I'd better solve our little _linger_ ing problem. Except it seems that the universe itself is conspiring against me, seeing as how Mom enrolled me in some weird Summer Class which I attend during the day, and during the night, which is when the therapist arrives for their weekly session, I'm stuck watching Laelynn who seems to have developed a strange obsession with playing with my fingers.

On a different note, I've found the most interesting book on thermodynamics. And now I think I've figured out how Heat Wave and Fire Spin work. Yippy-yay. Anyways, it raises an interesting question. When a Pokemon uses Flamethrower, they actually spit out a nearly continuous stream of some sort of fuel, being it a combustible gas or oil, which is then ignited. And Fire Spin is technically just a Flamethrower, the trajectory of which is a spiral, rather than a somewhat straight line. How the spiral is achieved actually depends on the Pokemon. For example, it has been reported that a Delphox relies on its Psychic powers to guide the fuel, whereas a Charizard reportedly manipulates heat and air pressure to create little pockets of low-pressured air into which the attack goes. Even more interesting, is that Houndooms, who, as Dark types, do not have the ability to use Psychic type moves, executes the move in a manner similar to Dark Pulse, which gives a similar effect. And so, before I go on another tangent, I think I'll go back to the original point. Heat Wave is just that; the Pokemon heats the air around to a temperature just below the point of turning air into plasma, and containing it within a certain area (usually with the help of minor Psychic powers), before either launching it into a particular direction, making it little more than a glorified Flamethrower that isn't affected as much by gravity. But I've just had a most fabulous idea. What if the Pokemon simply drops the Psychic shield around the move, making super-heated air spread around like an explosion. Of course, it would require a much tighter control on the psychic shield, but can you imagine what that move would achieved with a Delphox or a Ninetales?

Anyways, back to target JN, he seems to have finally caught on my stalking- err, I mean tailing him. He has taken to return the same thing, following me around with a newspaper. And I've noticed that whenever he's attempting to follow me, he tends to absent-mindedly rub that pendant of his. Huh...

Oh, another thing – I've sent a letter to Leaf, telling her about target JN and his relationship with Mom. Today, she finally replied, saying that I'm "a dense, moronic idiot with a one-track mind who couldn't see the real problem if it came into his house and went into his mother's bedroom". And then she told me that she's torn between going to Pallet just to slap me for my stupidity and thanking me for giving her such a good laugh. The nerve of that girl! _Sigh_ … I don't even know. _Pah_ , girls and their non-existent logic.

* * *

 **August 2,**

I officially feel like an idiot. Turns out Mom was in love with the therapist, and that Jacob was tailing me to 'find out my intention towards his adopted daughter'. I answered him honestly that I didn't care about her at all and that I hadn't reached puberty yet so the question is really a non-issue. Then, and I don't even know how, a hour later I ended up in his house, trading stories about our latest Cloak-and-Dagger business. As it turned out, he didn't even realize that I was stal- I meant tailing him. Huh, go figures. And then, somehow, it ended in the two of us discussing the science behind the more complicated techniques that Pokemon use, which somehow led to him pronouncing me his apprentice. I really have no idea what happened. And what's more, when I finally got home, I was hit by a wave of dizziness and then promptly fell asleep. A few hours later I woke up with a terrible headache.

Anyways, about that therapist, he actually decided to retire and, apparently, he and Mom are long time acquaintances and ex-lovers who have apparently rekindled their previous fire for each other. Arceus, here I thought that Mom's love life would play out like a clichéd romance _story_ , and it turns out that her love-story played out like a freaking romantic-comedy _movie_! What the hell?!

Anyways, on a totally unrelated note, when I asked them about what they were doing in Mom's bedroom, they shared a look before saying that he gave her a massage. Huh, I never knew that people grunt and moan so much during a massage, but hey, you learn something new every day!

…

I found a book about the connection between Psychic, Dark and Ghost type energies. Apparently, Psychic and Dark type energies are like electro-magnetic forces that work on a principle of Action at a Distance. Those forces, dubbed as PD (Psychic-Dark) force affect electro-magnetic fields, hence why they are able to move objects. When those energies are applied on an atom, that atom shakes and thrashes at a certain frequency. The 1992 PD Science Convention has agreed that Psychic type energies are of a positive frequency, whereas Dark type energies are on the negative side of the spectrum.

Now, you might be asking then – where is then a Dark type equivalent to the move Psychic? Well, like the electric field flows from protons into electrons, so too does the PD field flow from Psychic particles to Dark particles. Psychic moves are, typically, a controlled blast of Psychic energy that goes from the attacker to the recipient. Dark type moves, on the other hand, are usually a chaotic semi-controlled attack.

Ghost type energies, on the other hand, are a totally new can of worms. There isn't a whole lot known about it, aside from the fact that it definitely existed, and that our ancestors definitely knew about that. Case and point - the Kalosian celebration of Samhain's Eve, or Kanto's Lavender Tower, or even Sinnoh's tales of the Reverse World where Giratina reigns supreme. Another thing we _do_ know is that Ghost type energies are only capable of interacting with PD forces, and gravitational forces. Which means that Ghost type energies affect neither electro-magnetic forces (at least directly; they can still do so be proxy, affecting PD forces that affect EM forces), nor do they affect Fundamental and Residual forces.

What is quite peculiar is that Ghost-type particles explode powerfully when they come into contact with Psychic particles, whereas when they come into contact with Dark particles, the explosion is noticeably weaker. Which frankly makes no sense, since Psychic and Dark particles are of the same nature? Oh sure, the symbolism is clear as day, but that isn't quite how it works, seeing as how the particles are of identical mass. So yeah…

Anyways, good news is that Summer Class is over. Yay! Now I can finally have a month and a day without seeing Gary's ugly smirk every day. On an unrelated note, Leaf's parents have decided to move again, this time packing away to Johto. Poor girl...

Oh and speaking of girls, little Laelynn has turned 8 months old, and guess what that means. Yep, she's now actively trying to walk in that crib of hers, clapping her hands and giggling silly. Mom and I have lined the walls of the crib with pillows and blankets, turning her crib into a veritable nest.

Oh, and talking of Mom, she has decided that she would try to teach me to cook. Key word being 'try', naturally. I don't even know how, but I've managed to burn an omelette. An _omelette_ , the simplest dish in the world! But Mom's nothing but stubborn, and even though two hours have passed since she has proclaimed that she would turn me into a veritable chef by the end of next year or die trying, I still feel like there are a million tiny ants running down my spine. Why? Well, it's because I think she might just be serious, judging by that maniacal glint in her eyes. And that is why, at 10 o'clock at night, instead of sleeping, I am writing a Will in case I don't make it from her training. All while listening to a Hoothoot... hoot, and the noise that Mom and the therapist make during the massage.

* * *

 **AN: This chapter has been inspired by my acquaintance's little sister's attempt to help her brother and the girl next door. I kid you not, she literally stole her dad's hat and grabbed her Winnie the Pooh magazine and promptly followed the two of them out. The girl asked my friend to help her with learning badminton, and he, having a crush on her, agreed, despite not knowing how to play badminton at all. Yeah...**

 **Oh, please, please, PLEASE review. I do need to improve my writing skills, you know. Smell you later, like a certain person would say.**


	4. August 5 - August 31

**August 5,**

Today Jacob came over to my house and said some perfectly fine phrases that somehow made Mom redden and dragged me out. According to him, it was time for him to teach his apprentice the 'basics' of battling theory. According to him, professional battle analysts (whom he has dubbed as 'failures of trainers who have probably never even fought battles themselves' by the way) have divided strategies into three categories. The first is offense, the second is defence, while the third is stalling. The 'offense' is rather self-explanatory; you take the initiative and attack. Defence is also self-explanatory; you defend and wait for your opponent to make a stupid mistake. Stalling is a fairly viable strategy, if considered somewhat dishonourable. It involves inflicting some form of status effect onto the opponent and defending, buying time for the poison/burn to work its course. While the classification is somewhat usable, it also simplifies everything to a ridiculous extent.

I mean, come on, 'offence'? What kind of idiot goes on a headlong, all-out attack all of the time? All that would achieve, at best, is exhausting your Pokemon, and, at worst, leaving an enormous opening for opponents to take. Well, some truly elite trainers would probably protest, but, in the end, not everyone can be like Lance.

Jacob instead divided it up differently. His idea was to classify not the strategy that the Pokemon uses, but rather the strategy that fits it the best. Meaning that there are offensive-ranged Pokemon, offensive-melee Pokemon, offensive-mixed Pokemon, defensive Pokemon and support Pokemon. The names themselves are, once again, self-explanatory. Anyways, after that, he went on to give me a long lecture about how offensive-ranged Pokemon are generally the ones with the most firepower, and the most fragile ones, and so on and so forth.

While his lecture does, undoubtedly have its merits, I think his whole system is wrong as well. I think that dividing them up by offensive power can be quite misleading. I heard that a trainer from Kanto who has, for some strange reason been nicknamed Red, winner of last year's Kanto Battle League, has trained a Pikachu of all things to a point where its Thunderbolts easily matched Lorelei's Lapras's Ice Beam attack. Unfortunately, he did lose to Lance, but I suppose for a three years long run as a trainer, getting that far is quite impressive. Anyways, back to the point, despite their frailty, Pikachu are oft used as physical speed, mainly due to their incredible speed and small size that makes it immensely difficult to hit. And yet, Red's strategy was a lot more subtle, involving a liberal usage of Double Teams, Substitutes and various other ploys and attacking from afar. Against all odds, he used a Pikachu in the same manner veteran trainers used Jolteon, and he devastated his competition.

Or as another example I can take Sabrina, Saffron City's Gym Leader, whose Alakazam has been known to defeat Weaviles in close combat. So I think it's pretty safe to say that while Jacob's system works with the majority of trainers in the competitive circuit, relying on it is not only fool-hardy, it also completely disregards unorthodox, potentially ground-breaking combinations.

I think that the phrase "Simpler is better" works marvelously here. One should see whether a Pokemon operates best in close quarters, or from afar. After all, it completely removes all of the issues with the classification, and beyond that, it's much less needlessly elaborate.

Anyways…

* * *

 **August 18,**

Today has been a... challenging day on my nerves, so to speak. Jacob told me to come over _yet again_ to 'discuss the fundamental concepts behind battle tactics'. Unfortunately, there was a problem. When I came, Jacob was nowhere in sight. Amélie, on the other hand, was. And seeing me, she squealed, then blushed, then gripping my hands with strength you wouldn't expect from a small girl, she dragged me to the living room and practically dumped me on the couch before running out, shouting for me to wait. A few minutes later, I heard a very loud crash. And then another, and then I heard an even bigger crash. After which came a fire alarm. When I came to the kitchen to investigate, I saw Amélie standing in the middle of the kitchen, frantically trying to fan out the smoke from what looked like some very badly burnt pancakes. Yeah…

Anyways, when I joked about how her cooking and firemen are a match made in heaven, she, for reasons completely unfathomable to my mind, burst into tears and ran upstairs into her room (at least that's where I assumed she ran to; I didn't bother checking that) and left me to clean up the mess. Halfway through my attempts to clean Pallet Town's very own Augean stables, Jacob came in, shouted at me for being a "cruel, inconsiderate idiot" and told me to apologize to Amélie. When I asked what for, he went into an entire rant about how girls are fragile and that no apprentice of his should say such despicable words to the 'fairer sex', whatever that was supposed to mean. Well, if he thinks girls are fragile, then he clearly hasn't met Leaf. Or Mom, or Aunt Katherine, or Luna… Huh, I guess girls aren't fragile after all. (But they still have cooties.) And besides, I don't quite understand how my actions could be considered cruel. In fact, _I_ think it was actually quite considerate of me to wrap up the cold truth in a cheery package of humour. Jacob though didn't seem to see things my way, seeing as how he promptly booted me out before shouting for me not to come back before apologizing. I don't really understand the logic behind it; after all, I can't apologize if I don't come back, and yet he just told me not to come back until I apologised. But whatever...

Anyways, after the mind-numbingly stupid events of this morning, I decided to clear my head so I went on a brief walk around the town before finally deciding to come home. When I arrived, I saw Jacob talking to Mom. At first I thought that maybe they _were_ secretly visiting each other after all, or perhaps they have finally realized that they were meant to be… But noooo… Instead, he came over to complain about me, after which Mom grounded me. _Et tu, Brut_?!

I honestly don't get it. How is telling the truth considered cruel? If a person sucked at something, then surely they would want an honest evaluation to find out exactly how much they suck, and how to improve it. I mean, Mom does that to me all the time! So why she agreed with Jacob, I have no idea.

So now, I am once again grounded. Yay. How awesome. I've managed to run out of books to read, and I still don't feel like drawing. Yippe yay. _Sigh..._ The boredom is killing me.

…

To be, or not to be, that is the question. I've just realized how stupid our entire law enforcement is. I mean, if technically, any teenager can legally train a giant, heavily armoured Pokemon that can level a small town in a matter of minutes, then of what use are little Growlithes? I mean, do they seriously think that they can face a poacher with a Rhydon or Tyranitar with just a little yapping Growlithe? I understand why they don't hand out, say, Metagross or Dragonites as standard issue police enforcement Pokemon, but are Growlithes, Houndooms and occasional Pidgeots and Machokes the best they can do? It's a real surprise how humans haven't wiped out each other yet.

…

Actually, it just dawned on me just how much our entire bureaucratic system is broken. I mean, technically, the Shinto League consists of three regions: Kanto, Sevii Islands and the Orange Islands. Each of them is a sovereign entity, with the central institution being the Ancient Council which was ironically established a mere century ago. Doesn't seem very ancient, eh? Anyways, that makes us a confederation by definition, and yet for some reason, we are considered a federation. Sure, the Council 'safekeeps' the majority of the League's military and financial assets, and, at least on paper, has the authority to introduce bills that would affect all three regions.

But that is all on paper, for the harsh truth is, each region has its own Gym Leaders, the modern equivalent to lords whose duty was to protect the land that was given to them; each region has its own Elite Four headed by its very own Champion. The whole system could be compared to Ancient Sparta, with the Elite Four and the Champion being the five Ephors whose role was to restrain the Kings, i.e. the Gym Leaders in case the latter abused their authority. The Gym Leaders themselves were, in essence, the ones with the real power. They had the right to veto a judges decision in court as well as any new law being passed, something that can only be overruled by the Champion himself. The Gym Leaders were also in charge of the city's militia troops, recruitment centers, not to mention that they were allowed - no, encouraged to have a personal retinue of elite trainers who were supposed assist in defending their assigned municipality's towns and cities from wild Pokemon.

Of course, Gym Leaders were also expected to help the next generation of trainers, and most let their children/future successor to the position of Gym Leader head the Gym Challenges, i.e. fight challengers and award them with the Gym's badge if they judge the challenger worthy. Oh yeah, speaking of which, the Gym Leaders are allowed to assign their own successor, which has lead to some of the older Gyms, like Pewter and Fuchsia Gyms being unofficially hereditary. So yeah...

...

So boring! Is there even anything to do? The TV and gaming console are downstairs, and I'm not allowed to leave my room, I've read and reread my books several times – at least I think I have- , and schoolwork is useless and boring… ARGH!

…

Okay, so after a few agonizingly boring hours have passed since my confinement, Mom finally decided to pay me a visit. And with her, she brought a psychology book. A psychology book called "The Key to a Happy Family Life". And, predictably enough, she forced me to read it. Why, Mother, do you hate me so? Sigh...

All my attempts to negotiate with Mom failed as she plowed on, steadfast in her decision to make suffer- err, I mean, read the god forsaken book. So, reluctantly, I opened the dreadful tome of cooties. On the first page, I saw an obviously artificial 'family' created purely for this picture, all of them wearing those fake model-like smile. Sigh… Oh Arceus, what hast I done to anger thee, oh mighty Creator? Why hast thou cursed me to read this unholy tome? WHY?! As soon as Mom left the room, I tossed the book onto the bed and frantically began thinking of ways to avoid reading this unholy book. I could pawn it off in the town market, but unfortunately, I'm grounded. I could 'accidentally' puke on it... But no matter how vile its contents, I cannot bring myself to puke on a book. Wait a second, since when have I started to think about books like that? No, it cannot be - have I fallen to the Dark Side? Have I failed to resist the pull of Science and Vanilla Chocolate Chip cookies? Nooooo... Actually, you know what? It's not so bad after all. Huh... I guess even Nerdhood has its advantages.

Anyways, back to the book of cooties, I think that the best course of action may be to burn the abomination. After all, only fire can purge something as evil as this! On second thought, maybe not, seeing as how our stove is downstairs...

…

Half an hour later later I finally started reading The Book. Don't get me wrong, I still think it's an abomination and cooties personified. The only reason I'm reading it is because my Mom made me. Yes, it's most definitely not because I was so utterly bored that I would do anything, _anything_ to relieve me from the torture. And don't you think otherwise, _Mom_! That aside though, I think it's safe to conclude that the book sucks. I mean, really, 'discuss everything with your partner, be perfectly honest with them'… I mean, really? Is that the kind of advice they give? No wonder the amount of divorces is so high, jeez. Never underestimate the power of lies.

After all, humans, married or not, are still humans. They have their own thoughts, their own convictions and their own private space. There just are things people aren't ready to share, not even to the person closest to them. And while I'm sure that an honest relationship is ideal, I just simply can't wrap my head around how it would even be possible. So, my conclusion - psychology books like this are a blight upon society, and should most definitely be burnt.

So when Mom asked me what conclusions I made from the book, you can probably guess what I answered. It appears that I didn't make the same conclusion as Mom, since she got that utterly terrifying look on her face and told me that certain behaviours are utterly unacceptable and that I should burn that into my mind. Sigh... I'll never understand Mom...

* * *

 **August 20,**

Today Mom has decided that I would be visiting a psychologist who may or may not be the guy who gives Mom massages in her bedroom. Anyways, he, in his (and Mom's words) graciously decided to come over to our house every day for our appointments. Gary, of course, quickly caught on it, and now the entire town thinks I'm crazy. Me, crazy? Bah, what a load of hogwash. I mean, it's not like I suffer from hallucinations or have a strange voice talking inside my head, right? So wasting my time psychology appointments is pointless if nothing else.

Apparently Mom thought otherwise, for my protests fell on deaf , I suppose I'll go along, if only to not tick off Mom. Damn that glare was scary... Just writing about it gives me chills along my spine.

…

After the first appointment, I conclude that Bob is a weird guy. Who's Bob? Oh, that's how I called Mom's psychiatrist/masseur/personal Santa-Clause. I mean come on, how many bouquets of flowers, boxes of chocolate and bottles of wine does a woman even need? Well to be fair, he didn't just give her flowers and food; I believe that a few days ago, he had brought along a box full of strange rubbery balloon-like things along with some very weird and, in my opinion, impractical clothes. I mean, of what use are some undergarments connected with some thin strips of cloth? I mean, it's not like it's gonna keep her warm or cover her up. Because, if you're going to give someone those kind of clothes, you'd be better off not giving them clothes in the first place.

Anyways, back to Bob. First things first, he took out a hand-puppet and told me to introduce myself to it. Yeah, not te best first-except-its-not-first impression there, Bob. I really don't understand his action; the only possible explanation is that good old "children are more comfortable talking with inanimate objects than with adults". But why, then, in the name of Arceus, Mew or whatever deity he prays to, did he bring a hand-puppet of Barney the Tyranitar?! I remember being utterly traumatized by Barney when I was small; in fact, I still remember the nightmares I had of that purple balloon Tyranitar. That's already one brownie point that he's lost. Then, upon seeing my sceptical stare, he then took to cajoling me ("Barney doesn't bite, does he?" and "Come on, everyone loves Barney, Gary Oak loves Barney too!") That's another brownie point lost. Anyone who worships Gary is automatically considered stupid in my books. Come on Bob, at this rate, you'll lose all brownie points and I'll have to play the Devil-matchmaker again!

A few minutes later, he gave up and went straight to the crux of the issue. He started asking me questions like whether or not I knew that I had hurt Amélie, and why the hell did I not apologize, and how my behaviour is not befitting of his 'future step-son'. Well, that's all a big pile of Tauros excrement! How did I hurt Amélie? I didn't hit her or anything, and if she tripped while running out, then it's hardly my fault. And why would I apologize for giving my honest opinion? I thought you people were all for honesty and freedom and apple-pie! Oh wait, that's the Unovans, but my point still stands. Oh, and Bob? You're going to face all-out war at this rate.

I told him as much (except the all-out-war bit), after which he started asking me a bunch of rather useless verdict? Apparently, I'm suffering from 'Adolescent antisocial behaviour'.'Adolescent _antisocial_ behaviour'... ' _Adolescent_ antisocial behaviour...'

Sorry Bob, this sealed the deal; you've effectively lost all remaining brownie points and put a toe onto the negative side. Because why the hell would I have an 'adolescent antisocial behaviour'?! **Antisocial behaviour** is defined as behaviour that goes against laws and customs of a society, which are purely objective and liable to change. I do not see how stating my honest opinion is against said laws or customs of society, seeing as how I'm not agitating anyone towards overthrowing the government or disturbing public peace. So tell me, Doc, how can my behaviour be called 'antisocial'? And secondly, _Bob_ , I think I should go ahead and burn your doctorate in psychology for this. How can I have 'adolescent antisocial behaviour', if I'm not an adolescent? I just… The nerve of some people, bah!

* * *

 **August 30,**

I think I've done it. I've officially driven Bob mad. Between constantly calling him Bob,ignoring his protests that his name is Biff or Botch or something along those lines, and refuting every single one of his arguments in a logical manner seem to have driven him crazy, seeing as how today he suddenly screamed towards the end of our session and, pulling at his hair, jumped out of the window stark naked. Oh, and Mom is giving me the cold shoulder but I'm sure that it'll pass once she realizes that I did her a favour. No step-father of mine will dare to doubt my greatness- err, I mean, be an incompetent, thick-headed jerk. Yes, that's definitely what I had meant, yep, definitely.

Anyways, today my grounding is over, so I'm finally free to go out and what with my wandering eyes should appear, but a crazy brunet punching Gary, yippe! She was dressed all in green, from her neck to her foot, and her clothes were all tarnished with dust and Gary's blood (not really). Her eyes - how they narrowed, her glare, now _that's_ scary! Her cheeks were like roses, her flush like a cherry! Alright, alright, I'm done, jeez. But anyways, if you haven't realized yet realized who I'm talking about from the paraphrased version of 'Visit of St Nicholas', then I'll firstly bash you in the head, and secondly, tell you that it's Leaf. And, from what I saw, she and Gary have clearly just had their not-quite-so-touching-even-if-you-ignore-the-punch reunion. Yep, absolutely classical, my friends, absolutely classical.

So, as it turned out, Leaf has finally convinced her parents to move back to Pallet Town with a lot of diplomacy as she said. Though personally, I have a hunch that her diplomacy consisted of quite a few temper tantrums, complaints, puppy-eyes, begging, negotiating and pretending to be depressed. And, being the idiot that I am, I said that out loud. Which explains the head-splitting headache that I have right now.

After a few minutes of talking and catching up, she promptly dragged me over to my own house and invited herself in. Damn it, pesky woman, learn some manners, will ya?

And once we were inside, we were greeted with the sight of none other than Mr(s?) Mime which was sweeping the floor. Upon seeing us, it slowly and mechanically turned its head to us and _smirked_. Oh heavens, it _smirked_! Sound the alarm, call the Elite Four, do something, do anything, just stop the bloody mime from smirking! We don't need a creepier version of Gary that also happens to have psychic powers as well as Mom's personal protection!Looking to the side, I could only pale in fright - Leaf smirked at the mime! Then they went ahead and shook hands! Oh Arceus, tell me how I have sinned you, so I can correct my mistakes! For this punishment is far, far too cruel!

Unfortunately, my prayers fell upon dead ears, since at that very moment Mom, who was still annoyed with me, came right into the corridor. And upon seeing Leaf, Mom smirked as well. Sigh... I guess I'd best start digging my own grave then... Meanwhile, Mom hugged Leaf before dragging her to the living room for a 'chat'. Half an hour later, Leaf came out and proceeded to pinch my ear and shout at me for doing that to a girl who clearly had a crush on me. I just don't get it. I mean, Amélie is only eight! She won't be undergoing puberty for at least another two years! So since I doubt there was a magically sudden spike in reproductive hormones for her, then I just can't think of a reason. I mean, it's not like I saved her like a knight in shining armour or anything, right? Right?

Oh…

…

Anyways, Leaf dragged me over to Jacob's house to apologize. And I finally did apologize after we could stop Jacob from trying to kill me and Amélie stopped playing a stuck up princess. Which she did, but only after I gave her some candy. After which she grinned and hugged me for what in my opinion was an uncomfortably long time before letting me go and 'graciously' forgiving me, all while Leaf, the traitor that she was, sniggered and made faces at me. Traitor…

* * *

 **August 31,**

So, today is the last day of summer. I reflect back upon it and realized… that I had accomplished nothing! I wanted to finish reading the 'Science of Battling' book from the local library. Instead, I've read about a half and then promptly forgotten about it. I wanted to finish The Project. I hit a roadblock and got absolutely nowhere. I wanted to read up a bit on biology to try to understand the anatomy of Pokemon better. I think if that particular project had a progress bar, then it would be in negative. Yeah…

But on the bright side, after copious amount of research, I managed to figure out how to not burn an omelette. Turns out, the secret is to not cook at maximum heat without oil for ten minutes. Why, I never would have imagined. Anyways, on an completely unrelated note, Mom caught Bob My-name-is-not-Bob giving a massage to another woman. I think Mom might be a little bit possessive, because after the incident, she dragged Bob into her bedroom. About half an hour later, he ran out, screaming about crazy women and jumped out of the window, while Mom screamed 'And don't come back, you *beep *beep *beep'. Oh, that reminds me, I'd better nail it shut before another English teacher – err, I mean, person jumps out again.

And now for the real reason people are probably reading this - Laelynn has started talking a lot more often lately. Of course, by 'talk' I mean completely incoherent gurgles and ga-gas and goo-goos that comprise baby-talk, but whatever. Oh, and she has taken to calling me Bubby of all things. I recon that's baby talk for brother… Doesn't exactly stop Leaf from making fun of my nickname, now does it?

* * *

 **AN: well, sorry for the long wait. I sort of got lazy, heh heh. Anyways, the jump-out-of-the-window-stark-naked is a reference to an awesome comedy show Mind Your Language. (no, i do not feel like an old man) Like usual, please leave some reviews so I can turn my utterly horrible writing into something comprehensible. See you guys next time, whenever the hell that might be!**

 **Edit [25/08/17]: As you may see, I've fixed up the fourth chapter. As you may not have seen, I've also fixed up the other chapters. Since I did a brief re-reading of the story, I realized that the quality of each successive chapter dropped. So yeah... The fifth chapter is still being written. As you can guess, it's about Ash's last school year. And I have a lot of character building planned for the chapter, eh-heh! See you guys next time.**


	5. September 1 - September 6

**September 1,**

Oh dear Arceus, school has begun. And what's so special about school starting on the first of September, you might ask? Well, the answer is Gary. At every start of every school year, he and his gang of friends somehow manage to make the most ridiculous entrances. For example, last year, they charged into school on _racing_ bicycles at _top_ speed into the crowd of students and teachers, veering to the side at the last minute. In the end, our principle (who is a plump, aged woman with ill health by the way) had a heart attack. Though to be fair, it's unclear whether _they_ are the culprits, or the screams of giggly Gary-fangirls did the job. Who knows, perhaps it's a combination of both. That or the two Beedrill chasing after them were the real reason for the principle's heart attack. In the end though, they decided to 'punish' the whole school. You know, the boring, menial stuff like cleaning the toilet with a toothbrush, or trimming the bushes or sorting out the school textbooks in the library to figure out which ones to throw away. Though to be perfectly honest, I'm pretty sure that almost the latter option was a reward. So, anyways, let's just see how things go.

…

Sigh… I guess I should have known that Gary wouldn't be able to resist showing off again. This time, they were chased by Professor Oak's Arcanine who, upon catching up with them using Extreme Speed, gave them a big, slobbery lick before bounding away, tail wagging like a happy little puppy.

After they got chewed off by the deputy headmaster (the headmaster herself was suspiciously absent), we were treated to the obligatory beginning-of-the-year speech that was followed by a performance by class 9-A. Class 9-A was an all-time favourite amongst most teachers: it was filled to the brim with obedient student who regularly scored good marks on tests, many of whom were also in the Theatre club. In other words, teachers' pets. Last year they sung some weird song about pocket monsters and peaking under a girl's skirt. This year they sang about wanting to be the very best. Like usual, I and Leaf quietly exchanged sarcastic commentaries on their silly, pointless little performance. All while politely clapping along, of course.

Once _that_ was done and over with, they, for some strange reason, played the national Kantonese anthem. I mean, seriously, we're all freaking sick and tired of listening to it. Yeah, it's a great piece of music that's supposed to be 'uplifting and inspire future generations', but I think it loses its effect from being played around ten times per year. Anyways, once the anthem finished playing, the assembly quickly dispersed as students split up and began noisily chatting away and catching up with their friends. Though to be honest, I don't see much of a point in it, since Pallet Town is a rather small settlement, so practically everyone stays in contact with each other, whether they like it or not. Yes, Gary, I'm looking at you. As usual, pretty much all of our class surrounds Gary, trying to pamper the saliva-covered prince. The few loners orbiting on the very peripheral were me, Leaf and some kid named Tom.

Tom was a rather quiet kid who preferred to spend his time in the dark, dusty corners of the library. He was also very clumsy, especially when it came to girls. Rumours say that there was one case when he accidently walked into a couple of girls who were in the middle measuring their 'cups', after which he was beat up and called a Peeping Tom. I really don't understand why; after all, it's not like he walked into the two of them naked or anything, right? They were just comparing some cups, probably the ones that they were supposed to make during the Arts-and-Crafts lesson. Poor, poor Tom…

Anyways, our first class turned out to be Maths. I've always recalled hating Maths, but now that I actually know how to do the assignments, it's kind of amusing to just sit back and watch everyone make hilarious mistakes.

After Maths came Literature. Our Literature teacher was a barmy old man who taught using the principle that one could only truly appreciate literature when one tried to write. He especially loved applying that principle to poetry. Urgh, bloody poetry! I hate it, and may it disappear forever.

After the hell known as forty-five minutes of trying to write an anecdote in lyrical form, we had a lunch period during which nothing happened. I had a very delicious lunch bento that Mom made me which I ate quietly in my favourite corner. Once the brief hour long reprieve was over, we were thrown back into the gutter, for the lesson was P.E. Yep, that very same one were you were pretty much stuck running laps until the teacher as had enough entertainment from torturing kids for the day, after which everyone decided to play team games. Well, to be fair, I kind of like those games, but it is pretty irritating when no one wants to take you into their team even as they beg Gary to play with them.

After P.E. we had History, one of the most interesting subjects that was taught by one of the most boring teachers. What is this, Hogwarts?! Forty five minutes of napping later, we had to face the horror known as Linguistics. Seriously, what's the point in learning all those grammar rules when you're going to forget them anyways?

And at long last, we were done and allowed to go home. Yippy yay. All I could think of, while I dragged myself home along the dusty road was that this was going to be a long, long year.

...

* * *

 **September 4,**

Normally, I despise going to school for the same reason as any other kid – because school is boring as hell. One might even go as far as to suggest that school is hell, but I digress. For today, there is going to be something new. Starting from today, we are going to have a new subject in our timetable – Pokemon training. This subject is only compulsory during the sixth grade (I skipped a year after the fourth grade), although few, if any students at all drop the subject. I mean, can you even call it a subject at all?

In any case, that means that for the remainder of the course, we will need to have a Pokemon partner. Which is why, instead of studying (read: dying of boredom) at school, we are standing outside, huddled close together under a handful of umbrellas, waiting for the bus. Why are we huddling under an umbrella? Because our weather forecast has promised clear skies for the next two weeks, so no one thought to bring along an umbrella, aside from a handful of particularly paranoid individuals. Sigh… We should have known better than to believe the weather forecast…

Anyways, like usual, I, along with Tom and Leaf, am stuck at the back, while Gary and his posse are standing at the front. And whilst they are busy causing as much noise as humanly possible, I am mulling over our trip. We are meant to take a trip to Oak's corral, a breeding ranch that was built mostly from professor Oak's donations. The man may not be ridiculously rich, but he does have a very extensive network of favours to call from. The ranch mostly breeds less aggressive species that aren't native to Kanto, like Miltank and Roselia. The ranch is quite famous; I'm not sure, but I think it breeds rare Pokemon like Eevee and Feebas too. Of course, I'm studying in what might be considered a private academy, but I still doubt that we'll get anything too extravagant. Certainly nothing like Beldum or Honedge, right? Now, the whole reason why we're here in the first place is because this is actually a League-funded program. But considering that we are a relatively backwater town, professor Oak's laboratory notwithstanding, then I think it's safe to say that we'll receive much less funding then, say, schools in metropolis like Saffron or Celadon.

My apprehensions aside, the bus has finally arrived, albeit about two hours late. And the bus has… definitely seen better days. Littered with scraps and bumps on its sides, I think it's safe to say that our school has booked the cheapest one available. So no, Gary, we are not going to get Gibles and Absols, not even close. Not even if it's your birthday. In fact, I won't be surprised if all we are given is a bunch of Pidgey and Rattata. Well, I suppose at least one of us going to be happy, _Joey_.

A rather uneventful twenty minute long trip later, we arrived at the ranch. If this was some freaking anime, then the building would dramatically reflect the light while everyone stood in awe in front of it. But since this was real life, then I'll say that all we were simply presented with a two-storey tall building. It was new, if somewhat bland in design. Of course, everyone still broke into whispers, but not because of the building, but because everyone was excited to get a Pokemon.

After about ten minutes of combating the bureaucratic machine, our teacher finally told us to follow along and took us into the next room. An average-looking guy introduced himself as our staff there and led us on a merry old goose chase around the building, talking about the ranch's history and stuff we simply didn't care about. After that, we were brought to the feeding area. And everyone let out excited gasps at the sight of… Pokemon eating slop. Really? Is that what gets you guys ticking? I'm disappointed, really. You're all gaping at the sight of something so incredibly mundane… Sigh…

At that point Tom was swept up in yet another rom-com-ish scenario straight out of a high-school anime, while Leaf got interested in an Arbok coiling up somewhere, so I found myself alone. Damn it, I think that after all of those jokes I had cracked about how Tom is the unfortunate protagonist in an anime, I may have ended up in a poorly piece of fiction. I mean, come on, being separated from the crowd is a convenient plot device in character building, since the protagonist would then be left to their own device with no chance of outside interference/influence until its done. Or if the protagonist has some super-secret powers, which I obviously don't, then it can be an opportunity for them to show off without revealing their status, like in 'Galvantu-Man'. Actually, now that I think of it, perhaps it would be better to call it a plot catalyst, rather than a character development trope. Huh…

In any case, I found myself alone, which is why I did what pretty much anyone would do – walk around, looking at the Pokemon as if they were gallery exhibits in an attempt to stave off boredom. And, as fate would have it, I soon found myself looking at a very peculiar sight: in a pen full of small, cutesy Pokemon like Eevee and Skitty, in very bottom-left corner, which was covered with a light shadow, sat some small Pokemon with extraordinary purple eyes. It was a small, furry creature with stubby feet and an uncharacteristically large head. Walking around the pen in an attempt to get a better vantage point, I could have sworn for a moment that its eyes were a deep, grey-like shade of blue. What did they call it again, 'aegean' blue, or something? I guess it must be using Psychic or Confusion, since there was a little tattered plushie doll that was missing an eye. A few minutes later I moved on, and yet the image of the little Psychic sitting in the shade burned itself into my memory.

Moving on, I observed several relatively interesting Pokemon. For example, there was that Skitty who put on a show of cutely playing with the mosaic shadows that a tree cast, which, predictably, earned it a lot of excited squeals and several pettings from girls. After they were gone, the Skitty turned around, flicking its tail at the girls' direction imperiously, almost as if saying 'peasants'. Or that Growlithe who, according to our guide, about whom everyone forgot, I think, just kept on challenging its Arcanine sister, despite losing every single time. And so, after about ten minutes, our teacher clapped his hands together and told us to gather up again. Once the last student arrived, we were led to 'outside' area of the ranch, where we would get to interact with the Ranch Pokemon while they were selecting our potential 'future partners'.

Once we were outside, we were greeted with the sight of a small lake with a few trees towering above it, casting soft shadows that were occasionally disturbed either by the dried-up leaves spiralling, or the Water Pokemon jumping out of the lake, describing a wide arc before slipping right back into the aquatic depths. Well, not depths, but you know what I mean. The scene would probably be quite tranquil, if not for my classmates' loud chattering. You'd think that with how loud they are, they'd spook the various Pokemon scattered across the field, but it would appear that they don't care much.

Once the teacher took yet another head count, we were let free. I'm thinking some of those Pokemon may be drugged – there is no way a Primeape is that docile. I mean, come on, they may not be in a state of perpetual anger, but it sure as hell doesn't mean that they aren't aggressive. There have been regular reports of weary travellers getting ambushed by a pack of Mankey and Primeape. I mean, come on, wild male Primeape spend most of their time fighting. And yet there we see four male Primeapes, none of which are fighting. Hell, they aren't even trying to engage the mating ritual with the handful of female Primeape nearby. What's up with that?

In any case, while Gary and his goons spent their time goofing around and gawking at the sleeping Rhyhorn, out of the corner of my eyes I saw Leaf pet a… Nidorina?! Aren't those Pokemon supposed to have poisonous spikes all over their bodies? Anyways, I decided to take a closer look at the trees. I don't think that these trees are native to Kanto… In fact, I think it's from further up north. I wonder why they chose these trees in particular; certainly isn't cheaper, that's a given.

About ten uneventful minutes later, they started calling people in by the alphabetic order. As soon as the first person, some random girl from Gary's fanclub, left, the class exploded into whispers. I didn't think it was possible, since the whole class was spread out over the clearing, but apparently, it is. Huh, you learn something new every day.

As the minutes rolled by, the next person was called in. And then the next, and the next one, and so on and so forth. Looking around, I noticed how whenever it was someone's turn to go next, they would invariably get nervous. And they would all express it in different ways. For example, Liam, some other random kid from Gary's posse, started stuttering more while he kept on speaking with Gary. James, the _other_ kid from Gary's posse, would in turn speak louder, whereas Peter, the _other other_ kid from Gary's posse would start looking around in a manner that I would almost call cat-like. Leaf, whose family name was, ironically, Greenleaf,by the way, didn't exhibit any suspicious behaviour. Nevertheless, if you looked closely, you would see that her movements were a tad bit more fidgety and exaggerated.

Actually, now that I think of it, there are two kinds of nervous people: those who try to slide into the background to hide their nerves, or those who opt to act like normal in a bid to cast off suspicions. Though the later are sometimes easier to figure out, since their actions are often exaggerated and somewhat off balance. I like to think that that I belong to neither group. Yes, after all, I have risen above such pettiness. I do not shiver with nerves, nor do I act like a buffoon.

…

Do I? I hope not...

In any case, it soon became my turn. So I calmly stood up and quietly went over when my name was called, ignoring Gary's jeering. Yep, that is most definitely what happened, and don't you believe anyone else, especially if it's Leaf saying that I showed Gary the bird, for which I was shouted at for two whole minutes before being made to go last. Yep, that is most definitely _not_ what happened, you hear me? And besides, Gary showed me the finger too, albeit much more discreetly.

In any case, once I was _finally_ ushered in, it turned out that all of the Pokemon who were selected as my 'prospective partners' have been taken. What the hell? So in the end, I was forced to join Tom as the only people who didn't get a Pokemon. Jeez, if your budget didn't cover enough people, then you should have just said so!

At dinner I was in a pretty foul mood after everything, something that Mom must have noticed pretty quickly. She interrogated me for about half an hour, after which she phoned the teacher who was responsible for the trip. What ensued was a loud and devastating battle, judging by how I could hear her from all the way in my room upstairs. Once the dust clouds have set, the audience waited with abated breath for the judge's verdict, when suddenly…

"Ashton William Ketchum, get down here this instant!" A loud shout cut through the air in a manner not dissimilar to an arrow… Wait a second, why the hell am I writing in this manner? Damn it seems that I have been reading way too many fiction books lately. Maybe I should cut on – damn it Mom, no need to shout so much, I'm going, I'm going, jeez…

…

Ow, my ears are still ringing after Mom's lecture. I mean, come on, I guess maybe, from a certain point of view, my actions may be considered somewhat rude, but Gary did the same, and nothing happened to him! I mean, sure, he's everyone's golden boy, he even got a Squirtle, one of the rarer and more expensive Pokemon, while everyone else got Odish, Pidgeys and Psyducks!

Come on, it's a perfect example of the inequality in our system! The rich folks have got it all, I'm telling you, they've got it all! From money to friends, from quality of services to Pokemon, they've got everything better! It's time for a revolution – wait a second, what the hell am I even saying? I don't recall reading a certain bearded old socialistic agitator's books recently, have I? Wait a second, old bearded man… Isn't that how people usually describe Santa Clause? Now that I think of it, Santa Clause is giving out stuff for free and he even wears red! Then why didn't Marx love him?

Anyways, Mom told me that my actions were 'unacceptable', so as a punishment, I wouldn't get a Pokemon from the ranch. And she certainly wouldn't give me one either, at least until Gary 'forgave' me. Knowing him, that would never happen. Damn it, in a single moment, everything… gone. All my dreams, all my plans… Damn it, how can Mom be so cruel?

… Unless she isn't? Perhaps it's her no so subtle hint for me to start practicing displaying independence? I mean, a Pokeball costs 100$, and I have 300$ saved up from over the years. So I can definitely afford one. But then again, I can't possess one legally, so that's not what Mom meant. Perhaps she meant a more traditional method, involving taming one by hand, just like in those legends… I guess it's worth looking in to.

* * *

 **September 5,**

Luckily, today is Saturday, so I don't have to go to school. I've spent half of last night rolling around in bed, laying out the groundworks of the plan. This month will be dedicated to digging inside books to research the various myths and legends that involve taming Pokemon. Then I'll try to figure out which Pokemon I should try to go for, since I don't want to settle for something as pedestrian as Pidgeys or Rattata. Once I figure that out, I'll try do some additional research into the species, before trying to approach one. That should be achieved before Christmas, because I want some time to acquaint myself with the Pokemon, since I'll be leaving in summer.

Right, so first things first, I ought to visit the library. I suppose it would be too much to ask for no one to bother me, since barely two minutes out of the house and the guys are already taunting me about yesterday. Calm down, Ash, you'll show these peasants later, you just have to persevere for just a tad bit more… Be a pacifist for just a tad bit longer, just like Gandhi, at least until democracy and nukes roll in…

Alright, now where was I? Ah yes, the library. I don't know if I've mentioned it, but the library is surprisingly empty during the weekends for some reason. I'd almost call it creepy, actually. Anyways, I wander into the imposing forest of tall bookshelves, pick up the fruits that are books and high-tail the hell out of there. I swear, every time I visit the library I get the feeling that I'm being watched. Anyways, as I go out, carrying a large pile of books, I almost trip on something. Going on with my analogy of the library and a mysterious forest, the tree root on which travelers predictably trip on, turned out to be a small plushie. It has clearly seen better days, that's for sure; tattered with multiple stitches, it looked like a tiny Frankenstein's monster with one eye missing. Actually, now that I think of it, it somewhat reminds me of the plush doll that Psychic Pokemon from yesterday was playing with. Except the one from yesterday still had both eyes. I guess this doll must be that one's less fortunate twin then.

Anyways, aside from the creepy doll that I some why decided to take along with me, the trip back to a table in the far corner went without a hitch. And after about three hours of research, I came to a conclusion. All of those myths regard Pokemon as fully sentient _and_ sapient creatures. In these myths, Pokemon understand the concept of morality, of love and friendship, of jealousy and anger. They are, in essence, humans with a lot of super powers.

Are Pokemon really sapient? It's a scientific fact that they are sentient. The fact that they think differently from humans is also a scientific fact. But does that mean that they cannot comprehend some more complex concepts like companionship, family or morals? That is a question that the scientific community still struggles to answer, seeing how hard it is to observe wild packs. Those packs usually have a highly sophisticated system of scouts and patrols that pretty much ensures that most of the pack would be able to evacuate before the intruder arrives. That, or deal with the intruder accordingly. And said intruders include Psychic types.

Speaking of Psychic types, those guys are probably one of the most interesting Pokemon out there. I mean, there are psychics like Alakazam, or Gardevoir who are mostly sapient, and then, there are psychics like Hypno or Grumpig, who mostly operate on instincts.

In any case, I think I've spent enough time in the library, so I guess I'd better wrap. When I finished putting the books back into their place, I realized something: I still haven't figured out what to do about the doll. I mean, speaking from a logical standpoint, there is absolutely no reason for me to keep it. But for some unfathomable reason, I want to take it along. Bah, whatever…

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 **September 6,**

Today was spent pretty much like yesterday: wake up, take care of personal hygiene, have an awkwardly silent breakfast with Mom, go out of the house, talk myself out of killing the other kids for taunts, visit the library, spent three or four hours in the library, go out for a walk before going home. Except today something strange happened: when I was going home from the library, I passed a small park where I saw Gary hitting on Leaf yet again. Nothing new here; except once Leaf has rebuked Gary's advance, yet again, she turned away imperiously, gliding away like a young maiden with a blush on her face. With a freaking blush on her face... Damn it, I should have known it, the cold aloof girl's icy wall finally melted under Gary's advances. Sigh… And she had so much potential too… Well hey, if we're going on with that trope, then she'll likely keep on refusing his advances until he improves himself and becomes a decent human being, something that will likely be revealed to him during a particularly angry rant. So I suppose there's still some hope left… Sigh…

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 **AN: ...could it be? I have finally updated right when I promised? _Gasp_! Anyways guys, thanks to everyone who reviewed. **

**About Delia's punishment... That may seem somewhat out of proportion, but her decision is affected by a string of variables that won't be explained for a long while. As for now, I guess you can see it as a bluff, to make Ash swallow his misplaced pride. But little did she know, that it would send him on a path so ridiculous that no one could ever predict.**

 **Anyways, thanks for reading, and see you guys next time!**


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